


Of Priests and Demons

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blasphemy, Demon AU, Glory Hole, Leather Jackets, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Priest Kink, Strippers & Strip Clubs, biker Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2562251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few ficlets featuring priest!Will and priest!Hannibal</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I wrote this ficlet after terr0r and pocketwill's inspiring drabbles on tumblr :D

**trr_rr (terr0r):**

 

 

"Our father who-" "Hmhm." Will shudders at the laugh that echos in his skull. He's kneeling and he has his hands clasped around a rosary that he bought online. "Our father who art-" "I like you on your knees.." Books fly from the book case. Framed photos fall from the walls. He watches the glass of milk he had put out for himself turn a deep blood red. He stands and runs to his bedroom, slamming the door shut and panting in panic. It's silent, nothing moves but the curtains in the breeze...

 

 

**pocketwill:**

 

Will intends to finish what he started. He tries his best to ignore the rotten, burning smell that is slowly permeating the air, putting his trust in the Heavenly Father to drive his fears away. With unsteady hands he brings the Rosary to his lips and kisses the blessed beads before weakly stuttering, “Our f-father…who art in heaven… h-holy be your na—“

 

_“God has no name.”_ The grim way the voice mocks him makes Will’s hair stand on end.  _“But I do. Why not take a chance and guess, boy?”_

 

Will pauses but continues, “Thy k-kingdom come…thy will be d-done…on earth—”

 

_“Would you kneel for me again?”_  The windows close with a loud bang and the glass cracks, making Will flinch; but he’s determined to go through just this one prayer.

 

“—as it is in heaven—“

 

The pillows on the bed are ripped apart with the cotton flying all over the room,  _“Where I stay is a much more interesting place.”_

 

“—g-give us this d-day…our daily bre—“

 

There is an insistent tugging on his pant leg,  _“I can give you something much better than bread!”_  

 

“—and forgive us…our sins—“

 

_“I’LL FUCK YOU HARD, WILL. I’LL BURY MYSELF SO DEEP INTO YOUR ASS THAT YOU WON’T REMEMBER YOUR SHITTY PRAYERS.”_

 

Will collapses down to the floor and curls in on himself as he lets out high-pitched wails. He finds himself unable to continue, what with the various howling noises accompanying the hisses starting to overlap each other. Will holds his throbbing head in his hands and cries out, dragging his nails through his scalp in an attempt to distract himself in the form of physical pain.

 

When the voices start to recede, his back is rubbed gently and Will is almost sick because he is consoled by the gesture. He leans into it, the soothing pats that let him know he is safe for now.

 

_“Now there’s a good boy. My good boy.”_ the demon whispers before leaving.

 

**telera:**

 

The convent church is small and quiet. The smell of incense soothes Will instantly, thick and aromatic and so pure to his mind. There are still cloistered nuns living here, how many, he wonders as he watches the black bars and latticework on the galleries and windows. It must be a good thing to live here, the world forgotten, by the world forgot. Will has heard those lines in a movie. He can’t remember the title.

 

He sits on a pew and pulls the rosary from his pocket, caressing the beads and kissing the silver cross at the end. He is alone, there are no other parishioners except from an old lady praying on a kneeler close to the altar. It’s probably no time for mass yet. Maybe he can finally pray here, safe and protected on holy ground.  Maybe he can relieve his soul at last.

 

But as he thumbs the purple beads of the rosary, Will realizes no words come to his lips. He had been struggling to pray for the past days, fighting the demon who twisted his words and interrupted the holy litanies. But now that he is in the presence of God Almighty, Will finds he cannot utter a single word.

 

Maybe he needs confession. He looks at the confessional with hope, and the soft velvet curtain billows slightly. A priest is waiting inside, thank the Lord. Will leaves the pew and walks across the aisle to kneel on the confessional, knowing  that if he gets absolution of his sins, the prayers will flow from his heart and lips. He makes the sign of the cross quickly and says:

 

‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was four days ago’.

 

Will can’t see the face of the priest, but he is dressed in a black cassock and a white stole. He has a very strong accent Will can’t quite place, his voice deep and rich.

 

_‘ _Be not ashamed to confess thy sins,__ _my son’_  the priest quotes  _'Because_  He _is faithful and just to cleanse us from all unrighteousness’._

'Father' Will starts licking his lips 'I am… I think…' he trails off, knowing full well that what he needs to say will sound crazy.

 

'Go on, my child'.

 

Will takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

 

'There is an evil spirit tormenting me, Father. Tempting me to sin against the Lord'.

 

The priest says nothing for a moment, and Will opens his eyes in fear. But he is  nodding and steepling his fingers over the casock.

 

'Remember the wise words of St. Peter:  _Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour_. Do you think this… demon could be the lion St. Peter was referring to?’

 

'I— I don't know what he is. But his words… My inner voice now sounds like him. And can't get him out of my head, he laughs and mocks me and—'

 

'The devil is a liar. The father of all lies. You must never listen, my son'.

 

Will rubs his temples in circles. He can feel another headache approaching, and wonders if he should be in a hospital getting a brain scan. Perhaps the voices and hallucinations are all just paranoia. Perhaps he needs lithium instead of confession.

 

'I know the great burden you carry' the priest continues 'I know you think God has forsaken you. But why should that surprise you, Will? He forsook his own son on the cross'.

 

'How—?' Will frowns and a shiver goes down his spine 'How do you know my name?'

 

'I know so many things about you, my son'.

 

'Don't he says getting to his feet 'Don't call me  _that’_.

 

Will looks around with a rising panic. The church is darker now than before, all the candles are out and a rough wind turns the pages of the bible on the altar. The old lady on the kneeler is gone, and as Will draws the velvet curtain of the confessional, he finds no one inside.

 

'But you are my beloved, beautiful son' the accented voice says, dripping like heated oil into his mind 'And it saddens me that you are wasting yourself in the sterile worshipping a deaf God when I could give you everything your want. All your dreams, your secret desires and wishes, they're all within the reach of your hand, Will. All you have to do is ask'.

 

'No!' Will covers his ears with his hands and tumbles down the aisle to the stoup of holy water. He dips his finger in the water, but when he crosses himself he realizes he has splashed himself with blood.

 

'There's nothing to fear, Will' the familiar voice echoes in his mind, and Will bangs his head against the marble stoup.

 

'Leave me alone!' he cries in anguish, even as a thunder rolls and a tremor cracks the stone columns. The church is shaking with an earthquake, and Will curls himself into a ball as pieces of rubble begin to drop from the painted ceiling. He coughs as dust and ashes fill his lungs, and when the deep tremors pass, he rubs his eyes to find a fine dressed gentleman looking at him from the altar.

 

'Hello, Will' the gentleman greets, and as he advances towards him the statues of Saints and Virgins weep tears of blood.

 

Will makes the sign of the cross again, with his bloodied hand, and he takes a step back trying to remember the Latin text to cast the devil away.

 

_'Let the Holy Cross be my light, let not the dragon be my guide'_  he stutters, and a rich, deep laughter rings in his ears.

 

_'Step back Satan'_  Will says clutching the beads of the rosary so hard they dig into the palm of his hand _'Never tempt me with vain things, what you offer me—'_

 

_'What you offer me is evil'_  the gentleman says with a smile ‘How many times have I heard that?’

 

He cups Will’s chin and thumbs a speck of blood from his lips.

 

_'Vade retro satana'_  Will breathes as he feels his body shivering with fear, but the gentleman smiles briefly.

 

'No, I think I'll stay here, with you' he says disentangling the rosary from Will's hand and putting it in his jacket pocket 'It's not everyday that I can meet such a unique creature. So beautiful in his imperfections. So scared of his own humanity'.

 

_'The Lord is my shepherd'_  Will intones closing his eyes  _'I shall not want'._

 

'Let the shepherd look after his sheep' the devil whispers in his ear 'And be thou comforted by me'.

 

'No' Will gasps, opening his eyes and facing the adversary 'I will not be face eternal damnation by—'

 

'Oh, but you are already damned, my son. Wasn't God who first cursed and punished you? Do you think I would have expelled such beautiful creatures from the Garden of Eden? I would have shared my power with you. With the entire human race. And I'm offering it to you now, Will. Take it'.

 

Will shakes his head and suddenly he sees wings unfolding on the back of the demon. Chaste, pristine wings, of the softest and purest white he has ever seen.

 

_'Satan disguises himself as an angel of light'_  he quotes as the devil sheds his clothes and stands proud and naked in front of him.

 

'I was sucking Paul's cock when he wrote that letter to the Corinthians' the adversary says 'That's why he saw me as an angel of light. How do you see me, Will?'

 

Will wants to see a beast, a dragon with multiple heads and tails that reeks of death and corruption. But all he sees is the gentleman from before, his magnificent body strong and unblemished. Will looks in dismay at his own body, his clothes have turned to ashes and his skin is full of wounds that bleed like open mouths.

 

'Let me heal you' the devil says running a nail across his chest 'Feast with me. And your thirst and hunger will be quenched for all eternity'.

 

A chalice appears in the hand of the devil, which fills with the blood flowing from his chest. Will can see his heart beating, and for a moment he thinks he understands. Only that flesh can heal his own; only the thick, dark blood of the devil can prevent his soul from leaking through his wounds.

 

The realization makes his head spin. Everything seems so clear now, so simple. Why was he struggling before? Maybe he was mad. Maybe he had lost his sanity. But he knows what he has to do now. Will reaches out and pinches a bit off the devil’s heart. The beating flesh throbs in his hand, and he dips it in the chalice before taking it to his mouth. The morsel is delicious, tender and juicy and unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

 

The gentleman smiles, and he doesn’t flinch when Will takes another pinch off his heart, and another, and still his heart is always whole and throbbing in his chest. Will eats and drinks to satiation, and when he’s done his lips are tainted with rivulets of red.

 

'Drink again from me' the gentleman says guiding Will to his knees 'And be my precious pet forever'.

 

Will’s smacks his lips, the devil’s cock is hard and moist in front of him and for the first time he has no doubts. He circles the thick tip with his lips and whispers:

 

'Yes, Master'.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Hannibal was folding the purple stole after mass when he heard footsteps approaching the sacristy.

 

'Oh, Father Lecter. So-sorry to interrupt you'.

 

'Not at all, Will' Hannibal said 'Please, come in'.

 

The young man entered the quiet room and looked around nervously.

 

'Is… I mean, I was wondering is I could see Father O'Brien?'

 

'I'm afraid he just left' Hannibal said 'Is there anything I can help you with, my son?'

 

Will gave a tiny anxious smile.

 

'N-no, it's not important I- I can return tomorrow if—'

 

'It's the time for your confession, right?'

 

Will frowned and Hannibal snorted softly.

 

'Forgive me, but I have noticed you always confess after Monday mass with Father O'Brien. I didn't mean to intrude in your privacy, of course'.

 

'No, it's- it's OK'.

 

There was a tense moment of silence between them, and Will thought quickly for an excuse to leave when Father Lecter said:

 

'Would you like me to hear you in confession, Will? You seem rather… upset'.

 

'Oh no' Will lied 'It can wait, really, and besides, I don't want to keep you from-'

 

‘But I have finished here already’ Hannibal said putting everything in the drawer and closing it ‘Besides, it’s an excellent habit of yours to confess every week, I wish half my flock were as pious and God fearing as you. Come with me, my son, and remember:  _Be not ashamed to confess thy sins’._

 

Will was about to protest, but what excuse could he give? Besides, he couldn’t quite reason against the Bible, right?That would mean adding another sinto his long count, so in the end he lowered his head and nodded. He followed Father Lecter to the confessional, and knelt down behind the grated window feeling a tight lump in his throat. He made the sign of the cross and heard Father Lecter saying:

 

'In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit'.

 

'Forgive me, father, for I have sinned' Will said in a little voice 'It's been a week since my last confession'.

 

'What sin are you struggling with, my son?'

 

'I…' Will licked his lips. He could see the silhouette of Dr. Lecter behind the grated window, and in the dimly-lit confessional, all the tempting and lascivious images that assaulted him in his dreams became more vivid 'I… I struggle with… with the sin of masturbation, Father'.

 

'I see' Hannibal said 'I'm sure you know that Saint Thomas Aquinas, the most prominent Doctor of the Church, called masturbation an “unnatural vice”'.

 

'Yes' Will breathed. He considered lying to the priest about his dreams and fantasies, but his soul was in mortal danger already 'And that's not all, I mean… I see… I have theseerotic visions, Father. Of a very respectable man I admire… in… in all sorts of lewd and sinful situations'.

 

'And do these… visions excite you sexually?'

 

'Very much, Father' Will admitted feeling as his cheeks grew red 'I cannot help it I… Sometimes I feel as if the Devil is tempting me'.

 

'Oh, but of course he is, my son. The Devil's wickedness knows no bounds. And remember Matthew 26:41- Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak'.

 

'I try to resist it, Father' Will said wringing his hands 'Very much. The images are disgusting, even more so as they involve this man I so respect. I hate them, but… I guess my flesh is too weak'.

 

Hannibal considered the young man through the grated window. He had been aware of dear Will’s fantasies about him for quite some time, but he was determined to hear them from  _him_. Especially as he was sure Father O’Brien had left out the juiciest details of his tale.

 

'I'd like you to explain and clarify the content of these visions, Will. Please understand I'm not here to judge you, but to absolve you. However, in order to do so, I need a full and detailed account of the fantasies you're struggling with'.

 

Will closed his eyes in shame. He was mortified enough by having these fantasies, talking about them in explicit detail would be excruciating. But for some reason, Father Lecter hadn’t asked who was the object of his fevered desire, something Will was immensely grateful for. Maybe he was very discreet, maybe he didn’t need to know to absolve him, whatever the case, Will thought it was a sign that he needed to continue until he unburdened himself of all his sinful thoughts.

 

'Well…' he started 'Typically the visions come to me when I'm in bed. I pray a rosary before going to sleep, but it's of no use… The moment I lie in the darkness of my room, I feel the man I admire and respect is by my side, naked. He's very warm and whispers in my ear… Kisses me… Sometimes I feel his hands caressing me… Some other times he touches himself while I watch… And I just can't help it, father'.

 

'Do you commit the sin of masturbation then?'

 

'Yes' Will's voice was just a whisper 'I get off imagining him like that…'

 

'Does this man have sexual intercourse with you, Will? In your fantasy?'

 

Will nodded and rested his head on the grated window.

 

'I wish I could say he forces me to do these acts of unspeakable lust, Father… But I commit them all of my own will'.

 

'And what would these acts be?'

 

'He…' Will swallowed hard 'He parts his cassock and I kneel at his feet… I love to service him with my mouth, Father. I feel his member filling my mouth and growing as I suck… His sash smells of incense and the rosary around his wrist has a faint rose scent… And all the time I see his gold pectoral cross on his furry chest, as my head bobs up and down…'

 

'Does he ejaculate in your mouth, my son?'

 

'Yes' Will admitted squeezing his eyes shut 'And he says it's his communion… That I must take within me to be saved… And I do, Father. I swallow his communion as if I were taking the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ'.

 

Hannibal was silent for a moment, savouring the delicious sin of this lost, confused sheep. He would need time to plan the proper course of action that would lead dear Will from fantasy to reality, but for the moment, he needed to comfort and absolve his troubled son.

 

'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest' he quoted 'For your penance, you will say five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers. Through the ministry of the church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen'.

 

'Amen' Will sighed with relief, and made the sign of the cross dutifully.

 

'And Will' Hannibal said before he left 'I would like to hear you in confession from now on. I believe I can help you with this burden you carry, so I expect to see you tomorrow after mass. And every day from now on, as I'm afraid confessing once a week is not enough. I have intimate knowledge of the Devil and his tricks, so we must work together very hard to defeat him. It will be a long and arduous fight, Will, but you will have me by your side. With God's help, we will defeat this evil foe'.

 

'Yes, Father' Will murmured, and he left feeling more relieved than he had felt since the fantasies began. Father Lecter's words comforted him in a way Father O'Brien's never did, and as he knelt down on a pew to begin his penance, Will thanked the Lord for having sent such an understanding and generous confessor his way.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ter0rr said: Can’t stop thinking about Father Graham and his fucking hot guilty face and his hot guilty body omg forgive me father I have sinned in my panties.

Father Graham surveyed the debris with a concerned frown. The roof of the chapel had collapsed killing three old women while they prayed the rosary that afternoon, and the ambulances had just left to the morgue. The loss of life was irreparable, as was probably the fate of the little chapel. The diocese had paid a local repair team for renovations the previous week, and the roof had buckled due to the weight of the snow. The diocese could very well face legal action due to the accident, and it would barely have any money left to rebuild the chapel where Will had received his first communion as a child.

 

Will picked the half-broken face of the statue of our Lady of Mercy and sighed in dejection. He had already comforted the families of the deceased old women, so the best he could do now was praying to the Virgin for mercy. And forgiveness.

 

_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…_

 

Sitting comfortably in the leather seat of his Bentley, Hannibal smoked a long, thin cigarette as he watched Father Graham crossing himself and sitting on a splintered pew. The Jesuits had done a great job with him, as they always did. Even today, and after all that had happened, one could still trust the order of Ignatius of Loyola to bring a lost sheep back into the flock. God should be proud of his little warrior saint.

 

Hannibal smiled to himself as Father Graham got on his knees and continued to pray to the Lord. What a very different image he had made only a couple of years ago, when he serviced fat, thick cocks on anonymous glory holes. Hannibal had watched him dance night after night in the seediest biker bars of South Virginia, moving sensuously around the beer stained stage and wrapping his legs around the pole. His purple thong got stuffed with grubby dollars, and after his number he made it to the toilets to earn a few extra bucks.

 

Hannibal watched from the shadows as Will got his mouth full of cum night after night, barely coughing or sputtering when the drunk bikers shoved their cocks deep into his throat. They called him Sweet Will, and for good reason. He enjoyed what he did, and moaned around the engorged cocks wantonly. Lustfully. One could even say,  _sinfully_.

 

One Saturday night, when the air of the bar stank of whisky and sweat, Hannibal slid $50 into the thong of future Father Graham and cocked his head towards the door of the toilets. Will nodded minutely and continued his number, which tonight he shared with his sometimes partner on the stage, another lost sheep by the name of Matthew. Hannibal watched the muscular stripper kiss Sweet Will, his body full of tattoos and shiny with oil. The obscene French kissing made the leering crowd cheer, and the number ended with dirty cries and even dirtiest requests.

 

Will left the stage, though, and walked to the toilets looking back to see if the biker followed him. And sure enough, there he was, dressed in a black leather jacket and moving towards him with a dangerous hunger in his eyes.

 

Will got to his knees in one of the toilet stalls, unzipped the leather pants of the biker and muttered:

 

‘Thank you. I’m not such a good dancer’.

 

Hannibal smiled and stroked his wet hair lovingly.

 

‘You’re worth more than $50, my son’.

 

Will scoffed as he started to lick Hannibal’s cockhead.

 

‘I hope you’re not one of those  _Hookers for Jesus_  guys. I am past redemption’.

 

Hannibal chuckled as Will – _Sweet Will_ \- worked his cock with the ease of a well practiced slut.

 

‘ _Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison’_.

 

‘That an exorcism?’ Will half-muttered as he got Hannibal’s cock deep in his mouth.

 

‘Lord, have mercy’ Hannibal translated ‘Christ, have mercy’.

 

He pulled out of Will’s mouth then and zipped up.

 

‘Wh-what?’ the beautiful stripper frowned ‘I didn’t mean- Sorry, if you want me to do the altar boy stuff I’ll do it, I’ll—’

 

‘Shh’ Hannibal said thumbing his precome sticky lips ‘Go home now, Will. Feed your dog the last bunch of pellets from the pack by the fridge. Drink the last of your cheap bourbon and go to sleep. Tomorrow, when you wake up, give Mr. Branson the $50 you owe him for the room and go here’.

 

Hannibal gave a white business card to a very shocked and scared Will.

 

‘They’re looking for a gardener at the Santa Clara Seminary. They’ll let you sleep in the shed. It’s not very big, but it’s clean and you’ll be allowed to bring your dog. Tell Father Crawford I sent you’.

 

With that the leather clad biker left, leaving Will on his knees with the salty taste of his cock in his mouth and a brilliant future as a Jesuit ahead.

 

And now Sweet Will was kneeling in the derelict chapel, with the name of the Lord in his mouth and a dark, secret past under his black cassock. Hannibal put out his cigarette and locked his Bentley. It was time to meet his lost sheep again.

 


End file.
